Voyager: The day after Timeless
by avi-in-the-delta-quadrant
Summary: A 'virtual episode' set the day after 'Timeless', exploring one day in the life of Voyager, during which some of the psychological consequences of four years on Voyager begin to unravel as Chakotay and other crew members explore difficult events in their past. J/C.
1. Chapter 1

In a place with no humanity, try to be human (Hillel, 1st century CE)

* * *

As the computer announced 'Seven hundred hours' in a frustratingly upbeat voice, she awoke from confused subconscious images of swimming stars and a jolting starship, pulling her way back through blurry nebulae to the rising automatic lighting of her quarters signaling morning. Her head felt heavy as she opened her eyes, sensing that something here was not as usual. As she blinked, the shadow just visible through the doorway became a familiar outline. Chakotay. His back to her, kneeling motionless by the table, on which he'd placed a small stone that she'd picked up at the last moment before they beamed up from New Earth.

Half a smile spread over her lips. During those first days on New Earth, she had at first been surprised and amused that her easy-going first officer took the meditation practice that he had learned from Tuvok aboard the Maquis vessel so seriously, lightly teasing him about his rigid dedication to sitting, come what may, first thing each morning. Later, as she came to understand the scars her friend carried, she developed a respect, even envy, for the way that uncomplicated spirituality helped him to subdue the battles of his mind.

Pulling on a sweater, Janeway moved over to the couch. A warm pot of coffee and a cup was waiting on the table. So typical of Chakotay to think of her. As she curled her hands around the cup and her eyes fell upon the motionless figure sitting in front of her, yesterday's events came flooding back into her mind. The nervous expectation as she gave the order on the bridge to engage the slipstream drive.

As Voyager began to accelerate, she had allowed herself to begin composing in her head the message she would relay to Starfleet Command as Voyager re-entered the Alpha Quadrant. She had gripped the arms of her seat in anticipation as Tom entered Harry's phase corrections, then released the grip and breathed more freely as the variance subsided. A second set of corrections, but this time suddenly the ship bucked and the alert lights went on as they were thrown back into normal space. Calculations, triangulations, searching then relief that the Delta Flyer was still just ahead of them then the cold realization, first that they were still decades from the Alpha Quadrant, and later, that Voyager had only survived through some reckless actions that she barely understood of a future Harry and Chakotay.

She had kept a brave face, of course. Congratulated the crew that they were ten years closer to home, and given them a free evening for recreation. She had joined them in the mess hall, trying to focus and laugh along as Paris teased Harry about his future-heroic self and B'Elanna acerbically offered Seven a glass of champagne, but after an hour, pleading a headache, she returned to her quarters… and broke down.

How long had she been sitting there when the doorbell chimed into her thoughts? 'Come', she said, out of habit, and the door swished open. 'Kathryn? I just wanted to check…' said Chakotay's voice as he walked towards her, falling silent as he rounded the corner and saw her hunched shoulders and the tears rolling down her cheeks. Soundlessly, he sat down next to her and took her shaking hand, warming it in his. They sat quietly for a long time, the silence only broken by her hiccups and tears, then gradually the words came.

'A hundred and fifty dead… We were dead… Because of my command… I wanted it so much that I was blind with hope…'

Her body shook with tears as she turned towards her friend.

'Chakotay – I can't… How many more years of this?... How many more times will I get their hopes up?... How many more times will I blindly endanger lives?...'

As her voice faded out, Chakotay stayed silent, rubbing her hand between his own as she bent over again in tears—and weighing his next words. Who was he to offer advice to a broken starship captain?

'Kathryn…'he began quietly, as her sobs subsided.

'Kathryn, you may be the finest starship captain I know, but you're only human. You're carrying four years and thousands of light years on your back.'

Through tears she raised her voice: 'Yes, but YOU manage. You keep calm, while I…'

Chakotay let her hand drop and turned to face her, his voice now firm and terse.

'Kathryn. I'm going to tell you something I didn't dare admit before, barely even to myself. I told you a nice story on New Earth. But do you know why the Maquis captain really put on the Starfleet uniform so quickly, the one that he had resigned just a few years before? Because secretly I was relieved. I had lost good comrades again and again, and seen my father blown into galactic dust together with my home colony. To hell with the Delta Quadrant – joining you meant that someone else would make those command decisions, decide who will live and who will die. And in truth, as I watched my ship go up in flames I envied you. The Starfleet brat in your first command, wearing a uniform that had never betrayed you, with a perfect family to come home to. You somehow seemed to hold things together, embracing every day as it came and fighting to get home, while I fought… to keep the darkness at bay.'

She raised her head slowly and studied her friend's face, recognizing for the first time a dark furrow above those twinkling eyes.

'The scream in the night…'.

It was a long time since she had thought about the incident, but it slowly came back to her. New Earth, one of the first nights they slept in the shelter. She had awoken sharply to a terrible scream; in the dim light she saw a shadow moving on the wall. Grabbing a phaser from the table she had jumped across the room, lowering the phaser as she saw Chakotay tossing in his bed, drenched in sweat and shouting, 'No! Leave her!'

She had run over to his side, crouched down and laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Chakotay…' He had grabbed her wrist as he turned towards her, then relaxed his grip as he opened his eyes and saw Kathryn's face above him. 'Sorry, a bad dream.' 'Sounds like more than a bad dream, Chakotay. Do you want to talk about it?' 'I'm OK, I need to sleep. Thanks, Kathryn', he said as he turned his face back into the pillow. The next morning he had resolutely avoided her gaze, meditating for longer than usual before heading out into the forest, where she heard the heavy sounds of his axe chopping wood.

'Yes' he said. 'I tried to bury the darkness in meditation, in the forest, in games of Velocity, and it faded slowly, but the Vori, species 8472, the terrible news from Starfleet, they all brought it back... Kathryn, these past four years have been difficult for all of us.'

She turned towards him, saying slowly. 'I've been running for years. Running from myself, and from my crew. Hiding behind my uniform and title, and running from admitting that we're stuck in the Delta Quadrant.' She hesitated, 'And running from…' She took Chakotay's hand; he felt a bolt of electricity as she interlaced her fingers with his and moved her thumb across his palm, but he pushed the feeling aside, freed his hand and embraced her in his arms. As she buried her face in his chest, he gently pressed his lips to her hair.

'Kathryn, I know, but not tonight. You're exhausted, it's been a long day and we both need to sleep.'

She began to shake again, and he tightened his embrace. 'I'll be here for you tonight.' She dimly remembered walking across the room, changing into pyjamas and then tumbling exhausted into bed, falling asleep in the quiet awareness of Chakotay pulling up a chair to sit beside her.

And here he was in front of her now, his slow breathing and calm face betraying little of the previous night. He must have slept on the couch. What time had it been? She felt guilty at not having offered him so much as a blanket. Drinking the last of the coffee, she stretched her legs and walked towards the bathroom. Half an hour until she was due on the bridge. As the sonic shower washed over her she felt strength gradually return to her muscles. When she stepped back into the room, Chakotay was gone. Somewhat relieved that their inevitable conversation could wait for later, Janeway pulled on her uniform, ran a brush through her hair, and strode out of her quarters towards the waiting turbolift.


	2. Chapter 2

6:27 am. Too late to go back to sleep, he reflected, as he caught sight of the dimly illuminated clock numbers, and rubbed his stiff neck. 'Kathryn?' he thought, then relaxed as he heard a faint sound of breathing from her sleeping quarters. So at least she had slept soundly through the night. He had sat opposite her for what seemed like an eternity last night, transfixed by the transformation of her troubled countenance to a childlike restfulness, before settling down to a fitful night's sleep on the couch. Starfleet furniture was clearly not designed for overnight guests.

Shaking out the uniform jacket that he had folded as a pillow then pulling it on, Chakotay began to unravel the previous night's events. He had come to Kathryn's quarters after a long conversation with Tom. Why had he come? He had seen her leave the mess hall an hour or so earlier; had he hoped that the half-finished bottle of wine from last night might still be waiting? Or had had it simply been intuition: had he sensed that something in her step was not quite as it should be?

Kathryn was exhausted, that much was clear. Usually any suggestion of her own vulnerability angered her: Chakotay had learned simply to stay quiet when he found her in her ready room in the late evening propping up her head over her computer after a long day, or insisting on discharging herself from Sickbay after an away mission—any suggestion otherwise would simply lead to another round of science experiments, or another set of diagnostics.

It was during the long weeks that Voyager spent in darkness after months of near-daily battles that her brisk, energetic temperament had finally broken, but when he had tried to reach her, to draw her out of her self-enforced exile in her quarters, she had pushed him away, retreating further into herself until another crisis would finally pull her back into the Captain's chair. This time, however, her ferocious inner strength must simply have given out: too exhausted to hold back the tears, too exhausted to enforce her own parameters.

But had Kathryn been the only one to breach her parameters last night? Chakotay's shoulders instinctively tensed as he recalled their conversation about New Earth. So she had remembered. At least he had only woken her once: she was a surprisingly deep sleeper, and outdoor work and meditation had helped calm his mind. But the Cardassians had still been there, at the edges of his consciousness, waiting for the twilight of sleep to slip into his dreams and wreak havoc on his home. Again. And again. Disregarding the advice the Doctor had given him as they left Voyager, he had hidden the hypospray from her, shoving it deep inside a cargo box, ashamed to admit that when the phaser fire in his mind grew too vivid, this was sometimes the only way to subdue the flashing lights and burning smells.

Of course, it was a two-edged sword. He had learned early in life to respect the power of the mind, born into a family whose minds could journey, but were also fragile. As a young man, frightened by the voices his grandfather heard, he had buried himself in astrophysics, as if science could push away the spirits of the skies. Years later—too late for his father—he had found the spirits (or had they had found him?) and he was quickly touched by the easy grace with which he could travel among them, connecting past and future as easily as a starship could set a course through the Alpha quadrant.

Sometimes he was surprised that not everyone shared the same colours of experience. As much as he appreciated the seemingly effortless way in which Kathryn could bring clear, rational thinking to any situation, her mind was animated by science, not spirituality. In the early Voyager days he had summoned up the courage to offer his new captain a spirit quest: she willingly accepted, but even before she put her hand on the akoonah, his heart sank as he could tell that for her this was a fleeting, exotic experience, like a new ethnic dish in Neelix's kitchen, rather than a powerful reach into the beyond. Since then, they had been through so many experiences together, had grown used to one another: yet here their minds remained light years apart.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, Chakotay rose to his feet. 6:40. He considered returning to his quarters but Kathryn's quiet breathing seemed to radiate a special calm, prolonging the soft affection that he had felt in her brief touch last night. Moving softly across the room, he replicated her morning coffee, then picked up a familiar stone from the table, setting it in front of him as he dropped to his knees and brought his fingertips together in meditation. Conversations would come later, and this would be a long day: in the meantime, he once more sought order in the turmoil of his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

'GRRAaaaaaKKK' shouted Torres through clenched teeth, fighting the urge to writhe as sharp pain flashed once again across her ribcage.

'Please try to hold _still_ , Lt. Torres,' intoned the Doctor in a singsong voice.

'Next time you might be more careful about where you aim that thing!' replied B'Elanna, testily.

'Next time, YOU might be more careful before you decide to go abseiling in the Hamar Mountains with the safety protocols turned off,' retorted the Doctor with an annoying smirk in his voice.

'Shut up, or I'll disengage your vocal matrix.'

'May I remind you, B'Elanna, that _I_ am currently the one with a molecular scalpel in my hand, and that last time _you_ decided to play nurse, you left the skeletal regenerator on the 'Human' setting, thus weakening your bone structure by 23.7 percent. I am therefore left with no choice but to re-break your entire ribcage—unless you want to do so yourself the next time you bend down to crawl along a Jeffries tube…'

Gritting her teeth, B'Elanna lay back on the biobed. For five weeks she had been forced to pay regular visits to Sickbay as the Doctor gradually restored the Klingon DNA she had inadvertently deleted with the skeletal regenerator. No wonder she had been so badly injured in the holodeck accident: by that time her upper body was barely Klingon at all. How could she have been so stupid?

As she had every day for the past weeks, she replayed the events in her mind, searching for a way to understand what had happened. Deep down, she had known that something was going wrong, but the attraction had just been too great: just one more dive, just a thousand metres higher… _Had_ she wanted to kill herself? She was frightened to admit that she was still not sure. When the simulated Delta Flyer had thrown her from her seat, she had just been trying to do her duties; but then she had woken up in Sickbay to discover that more than the Delta Flyer had fractured: the people she had trusted the most had broken into her most private spaces.

In that moment she had despised Janeway. Despised her Starfleet principles. Despised her for trying to help, for thinking that she could even begin to understand what it meant to lose your friends-all of them-in a hopeless battle; how it felt to have your hopes built up again then thrown away. She had even hated Tom: the admiral's son had never had to prove that he was Starfleet material, whose family would welcome him with open arms back to Earth, who had never had to prove that he was as strong as a Klingon, had never had to prove that he belonged.

After a long, haunted night in her quarters it was Chakotay who had surprised her. Not the Chakotay of Voyager, but the old, Maquis Chakotay. As he walked through her door and dragged her onto the holodeck, she had seen something light up in his eyes, the vibrant, uncompromising anger that had driven him again and again into battle with the Cardassians, and which he had silently—and too easily, she had thought—put aside when he pulled on the Starfleet uniform and stood at Janeway's side.

Standing again in front of her former captain, B'Elanna had suddenly felt embarrassed: embarrassed that he had understood, embarrassed that he had had to rescue her like he did when she was thrown out of the Academy all those years ago, embarrassed that she had disappointed him. But she had seen something else in Chakotay's eyes, too, as he surveyed the dead Maquis bodies. Fear. Real, cold fear. Not of the danger outside, but of the danger within. At that moment, she realized that he understood her better than she did, and was afraid for both of them. She bit her lip, wishing that she could erase the holodeck program, erase the bad news from Starfleet, erase, erase…

* * *

As she opened her eyes, B'Elanna saw the clock tick closer to 08:00 and started to fidget. 'Doctor, have you finished already? My shift in Engineering starts at 8 hundred hours and I have a slipstream drive to decommission...'

'Lt. Torres, I quite understand your desire to leave Sickbay before Lt. Paris's arrival. I wish that your concern was justified. Luckily for you, however, I forsee little danger of Lt. Paris breaking his usual habit of arriving several minutes late with an implausible excuse that all the turbolifts were busy. Would that I were wrong…'

The Doctor stood back, looking smugly satisfied with his handiwork 'All right, you are free to go. Please report back tomorrow at 07:00 hours, and we will begin work on your epidermis.' Cursing him under her breath, B'Elanna strode towards the door, hoping that the Doctor was right about Tom. He knew, of course—all of them did. And he was trying so hard to make things better, asking her how she felt, treading carefully in conversation, and he had even replicated her a bunch of Talaxian irises. But it was so difficult to talk when you yourself didn't even understand what was going on. Gradually B'Elanna's concentration at work was coming back, but she still sometimes felt like throwing the tricorder down and leaving Voyager on the nearest freight transport, and she knew that it showed.

Outside Sickbay, B'Elanna stood impatiently outside the turbolift. Perhaps Tom had been right: the lifts certainly seemed busy at this time of morning. When the doors opened, she stepped inside, noticing Naomi Wildman in the other corner of the lift, a PADD and a Flotter doll wedged under her arm. B'Elanna smiled briefly, then looked straight ahead, trying to clear her mind. Naomi must be on her way to her morning lesson.

Suddenly, B'Elanna heard a giggle. Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of Naomi looking at her; when she looked down, she saw Naomi quickly look away. Damn, thought B'Elanna—had the Doctor spilled hypoglue on her collar again?

'What are you looking at, Naomi?' she asked.

'Why is your face bumpy?' blurted out Naomi.

'My face?' said B'Elanna, putting her hands to her cheeks... 'Oh, you mean these?' she said with some relief, indicating the ridges on her forehead. Naomi nodded. 'That's because I am half Klingon.'

'What's Klingon?' asked Naomi.

'Klingons are people, like humans, and Talaxians, and Vulcans, and Ktarians… Some people say that Klingons are the strongest people in the Alpha Quadrant'

'Is it true?' asked Naomi, wide-eyed.

'I'm not sure…' answered B'Elanna, hesitantly.

'Don't you wish that you could make your face flat? I wish my face would be flat, like Captain Janeway… I'm going to be a captain one day' said Naomi, wistfully.

B'Elanna was silent for a moment, thinking about her broken ribs. How ironic that the skeletal regenerator had finally done the job of years of childhood wishing. 'Sometimes I _do_ wish that I looked like other people on Voyager. But lots of us here look different from all the others: me, and you.. and Neelix, Seven of Nine, Tuvok… And I think you definitely look like a captain…' The ends of Naomi's mouth formed a faint smile, and she waved goodbye to B'Elanna as she left the turbolift towards the quarters that served as her schoolroom.

B'Elanna watched as Naomi walked round the corner. Things had been so simple at that age. Why were they so complicated now?


	4. Chapter 4

As the turbolift arrived at the bridge, Janeway smoothed her hair. Crisis or no crisis, she was still the captain, and yesterday's slipstream accident had thrown Voyager into an unfamiliar sector. Initial scans had shown no immediate danger, but with the warp engines still offline, the ship was simply hanging in space. Today would be a busy day.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the bridge. 'Good morning Harry, Tuvok, Chakotay…' Nodding to the bridge crew, Janeway strode purposefully to her seat, aware of Chakotay's presence beside her as she sat down. He seemed as calm as ever, betraying nothing of the turbulent events of the previous night. She fixed her eyes on the stars on the main viewer screen, trying to focus on the task at hand. 'Status report, Mr Kim?'

Kim's voice sounded tired. 'Hull damage repaired and we are travelling at one quarter impulse, Captain. Warp engines are offline until Engineering can reconfigure the phase generators. B'Elanna estimates it will take around ten hours.'

'Thank you, Ensign.' Tapping her comm badge, she continued, 'Janeway to Seven of Nine: Seven, how are the astrometric charts of this sector coming along?'

'The charts are ready, Captain,' replied Seven immediately. She must have stayed up all night working. Sometimes the Borg regeneration cycle had its advantages, though Kathryn suspected that the star charts had offered a convenient excuse for Seven to leave the party early last night.

'Excellent. I'm on my way'. She turned to the crew. 'Chakotay, you're with me in Astrometrics. Harry: see if B'Elanna could use a hand getting the warp engines online. Tuvok, you have the con.'

* * *

Even before the doors of Engineering opened, Harry heard loud clanging sounds coming from inside. As he entered, he found his way forward blocked by a pile of long metal struts, next to which an angry-looking B'Elanna was addressing Ensign Vorik, '… out of my way! I told you to transport them to Sector 45 of Cargo bay 2. NOW… Harry. What do YOU want? I told you, it will take no less than ten hours, and that's with all my staff working double shifts…'

'Uh, I've come to see if you need a hand, B'Elanna.'

'Sorry. Yes. Great. Jeffries Tube 31. Realign the plasma connectors. Here.' She pushed a PADD into his hand, then headed back towards the half-deconstructed slipstream drive.

'Good morning to you, too…' said Harry under his voice, then turned back towards the turbolift, running in his mind through the internal configuration of the ship. Jeffries tube 31… should have an access port just outside Sickbay…

As he headed down the corridor towards the access hatch, Tom came running in the opposite direction.

'Tom! What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be with the Doctor?'

'Late as usual—the Doc's going to hang, draw and quarter me. But I was about to ask you the same question?'

Kim showed him the PADD. 'B'Elanna's got me fixing the plasma connectors over here. Seemed to be in a fiery mood this morning, even for B'Elanna…'

Tom sighed. 'I don't know what to do, Harry… The treatments… She's just… Listen, could you use a hand in there? I'll tell the Doc that he can survive without me this morning...'

* * *

Janeway entered the turbolift with Chakotay. 'Astrometrics...' An awkward silence seemed to pervade the space.

'Kathryn…' began Chakotay, 'how are you feeling?'

Instinctively, she felt herself about to answer 'I'm fine', but stopped herself: here she was running away again, trying to prove that she was strong. 'Tired', she answered, truthfully. She paused, then turned to Chakotay, 'Thank you for the coffee. And…' She fell silent.

'My pleasure, Kathryn. I'm glad that…' His sentence was cut off by the turbolift doors opening; entering Astrometrics, they proceeded to the central console 'So, Seven, tell us what you found.'

'This sector contains three star systems and thirteen sentient species, all at a low stage of technical development. The Borg found them unworthy of assimilation. The second star system contains three M-class planets. I have plotted the most efficient route through the sector according to the gravitational span…'

As Seven continued, both officers bent to look at the screen in front of them, on which the suggested route was traced in a thin green line; as they did so Kathryn was aware of Chakotay's elbow touching hers. Neither made any effort to move away. Feeling the warmth of his body radiating through his uniform, she held her breath for a moment: so were these the new parameters?

'Captain? Does my course meet with your approval?' said Seven, the tone of her question indicating that she had expected a quicker response.

'Approval?' she said, regaining her thoughts 'Yes, excellent, patch the co-ordinates through to the helm,' she continued, standing up quickly. 'We'll set a course as soon as the warp engines are online. In the meantime, is there anything of note in our immediate surroundings?'

'I have identified a planet two hours from our current location whose surface rocks contain significant mineral deposits which could replenish our replicator supplies. There is a strong gravitational field but our transporters should work while Voyager is directly over the planet's surface.'

'Very well, we might as well take a look… we're certainly not going anywhere else today. Chakotay, put together an away team.'

'Aye aye Captain,' replied Chakotay. Janeway watched as he turned to leave.

'Chakotay…'

'Was there something else, Captain?' he said, turning back to face her.

'Just… take care…' she said, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks.

'Understood, Captain.' he answered, smiling, and entered the turbolift.

* * *

'Plasma conduits… ready to transfer power' announced Tom as they finished the work, reaching for the switch.

'Wait…' said Harry. 'Did you say that the power coefficient was 1.65 or 1.75? I think I've calculated… no, the overflow is double the discharge marginal… or was that the…'

'Give that here', said Tom. 'Harry, these calculations are fine. What are you talking about?'

'I'm sorry, Tom. It's just that yesterday, my calculations _looked_ fine, but…'

Tom put his hand on Harry's shoulder. 'Harry. You can't beat yourself up about a mistake…'

Harry turned round angrily. 'It wasn't just a mistake, Tom! You were all dead!'

'Look, Harry.' Tom's voice was firm. 'None of us is perfect. Do you think I haven't beaten myself up every day since Chakotay found B'Elanna lying on the holodeck? She's my girlfriend, she was tearing herself to pieces in front of my eyes, and I didn't even stop to notice: I just thought she was mad at me for spending too much time with the car. But there's nothing to do but carry on and just hope I can do things better next time. You worked hours on that project, you tested the calculations, and you put things right in the end, maybe not the orthodox Starfleet way, but we're still here to tell the tale. In the end, it's how we put things right that is important, not what happened on the way. At least that's what I say to myself when I imagine Admiral Paris looking at Voyager's navigation logs…'

Kim laughed, 'Watch out-you're beginning to sound like Chakotay!'

Tom reached towards him with a mock-fighting gesture and flipped the switch to turn on the plasma conduit. 'All looks good here. Time for a well earned coffee with Neelix, and a piece of Kazon toad cake if you're lucky... Let's go!'


	5. Chapter 5

B'Elanna swore as she tried to move the rock. A sharp pain in her chest reminded her that the newly reconstructed bones would take a day or two to settle. She let out a frustrated sigh. This was really not her day. First an hour of skeletal regeneration in Sickbay interspersed with sardonic remarks from the Doc, then a slipstream drive to decommission, then, in the middle of it all, an away mission to a charmless planet whose surface seemed to consist of rocks, rocks and more rocks. She suspected that Chakotay had seen her foul mood and pulled her into the away team to prevent her getting into a fistfight with any member of the Engineering crew, and that thought made her even more annoyed.

'Lieutenant Torres, may I remind you that you are below your usual physical capacity. I advise you to leave the larger rocks to me' said a voice over her shoulder. She whipped around to find Tuvok standing over her.

'Leave her, Tuvok,' said Chakotay, seeing a dangerous glint in B'Elanna's eyes. 'I'll help her to move this one, then we'll begin the mineral extraction. We have about two hours until Voyager's orbit realigns for the transport. Do we have another tricorder over there?' Tuvok headed back towards the transport site.

'Below my usual capacity…' muttered B'Elanna, crossly, as Chakotay walked over to the rock and pushed: it finally gave way and began to tumble towards the pile they had collected for mineral extraction. At least there was some satisfaction in seeing rocks crash down a cliff face. She looked towards Chakotay. 'Hey, it's like old times here-' she began, in a sarcastic tone of voice, 'you, me, and Tuvok, on a planet with a pile of rocks. All that's missing is a few Cardassians and a bit of phaser fire...'

'And a lot of our friends.'

B'Elanna stopped and looked at him. 'Yes. Did you really think I needed reminding?'

'I'm sorry, B'Elanna,' he continued. 'I didn't mean to reopen that wound. I was just thinking that... we might have ended up back in the Alpha Quadrant yesterday.'

She nodded silently. 'Nearly five years, but sometimes it feels like just a few days ago that we were on the Val Jean, flying into the Badlands. Just look at us now, in our Starfleet uniforms…' She laughed, bitterly: 'Can you imagine what Meyer would have said? 'Comrades Chakotay and Torres, your dedication to the cause is questionable…'

He smiled, remembering the earnest face of his comrade. 'Meyer would have made Seven of Nine seem easy-going…'

She let out a small laugh, then her face tensed again. 'But Chakotay… was it worth it?'

He breathed deeply. 'B'Elanna, I'm not sure we'll ever know the answer to that question. But my grandfather once told me: it's not up to you to complete the task, but neither are you free to ignore it. We played our parts; only the future will tell what difference we made.'

They walked side by side back to the transport site; it was only when they got there that he saw the tears on B'Elanna's cheeks. Meyer. Li-Paz. Sahreen. Nelson. How had it ended like this?

* * *

Stifling a yawn, she placed the PADD back on the table. It was nearly 21:00, she was still in her ready room, and she hadn't been able to concentrate for at least an hour. Had she secretly hoped that he might come by at the end of his duty shift? She had only seen him in passing this evening: it had been Tuvok who had reported back to her after the away team mission. She had glimpsed Chakotay across the room in the mess hall and had started towards him, hoping to invite him to join her for dinner, but he had been deep in conversation with B'Elanna and Tom.

Her thoughts ran through the events of the previous night and morning one more time. No, she hadn't imagined it: it had been more than a casual touch. She couldn't ignore it this time.

She should end this now. They had both been through officer training and had heard the warnings. Starfleet regulations were there for good reason: and their friendship and work partnership was too valuable to risk. Even though it had been difficult for him—for both of them—they had agreed on the parameters, for good reason, and it had worked for all these years.

But… things had changed. Then, they had been optimistic about getting home. Just one more wormhole. Just one anomaly… Now… She sighed: they had been working for nearly five years without a break, they were still forty years from Federation space, and she could too often see the strain in the faces of her crew. Sooner or later, things were going to change on Voyager.

* * *

It was now or never, she thought, as she headed to the turbolift.

* * *

'Kathryn!' said Chakotay, rising to his feet as he answered the door chime and she stepped into his quarters. 'Is everything alright?' He was dressed in off-duty clothes, a loose linen shirt and dark trousers, and she suddenly felt self-conscious in her uniform.

'Yes, of course,' she said. 'I was just wondering whether you had some more of that wonderful… herbal tea?'

'Tea?' he grinned. 'Aren't you more of a coffee person?'

'Yes, but at this time of night I don't have much choice. Another coffee and I'll be on a double-duty night shift. Only if you have time, of course…'

'With pleasure,' he said, walking towards the replicator. She sat down on a chair and picked up one of the small bowls on the table. On which planet had he found the wood to make these? Even on a starship, Chakotay had brought the forest inside, and he had a knack for making every place look like home.

He set two small round mugs of tea on the table. Kathryn put the bowl down and picked up a mug, curling her hands around it and enjoying the warm heat of the liquid inside.

'So… how are you feeling today?' he asked.

'Better. It's been a busy day. Good to take my mind off things. How was the away mission? I heard B'Elanna complaining about rocks in the mess hall…'

Chakotay grinned. 'Well.. there _were_ a lot of rocks there. I'm saving the pictures for my Voyager highlights album, volume 12: The Mineral Years.' He walked over to his desk, picked up a PADD, pressed a few buttons then passed it to her, sitting down on the arm of her chair and resting his hand behind her shoulder.

'Hmm, hardly a highlight of our voyage,' she agreed, looking at the pictures and laughing. 'Well, at least we replenished the replicator supplies. Naomi Wildman's been waiting for a pair of hoverskates for weeks…'

As she passed the PADD back to Chakotay, his fingers met hers, and their hands froze in the air. She looked up at his face.

'Kathryn,' he said, softly. 'Did you really come here just to drink tea?'

'No,' she whispered.

Setting the PADD down behind him, he rose to his feet and pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around the small of her back. They stood and embraced for a long time. She felt the warmth of his body, listening to the slow rhythm of his breathing and his quickening heartbeat. 'Hello Chakotay,' she murmured, grazing her cheek against the thin linen fabric of his shirt. She felt his hand move in response, tracing the contours of her body, from her waist, to her elbow, to her shoulder. As he reached her collarbone, his hand stopped, his thumb running back and forth over the four pips on her collar as if searching for a message. She heard him breathe deeply, then he dropped his hand, taking a step back. 'I'm sorry, Kathryn…,' he said. 'I want this as much as you do, but there are some things that we need… to talk about.'

'Is something wrong?' she asked, choked.

'Kathryn, you're a Starfleet captain, and I'm a Maquis leader who voluntarily resigned my Starfleet command.'

She let out a small sigh. 'Chakotay, that's all in the past. I'm sure that when we return to the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet will take your exceptional service record into account…'

'I'm not talking about Starfleet.' said Chakotay, slowly. 'I'm talking about _us_ , Kathryn…'

'Us?...' She echoed him, her confusion showing in her voice.

'Come with me. I need to show you something.' Suddenly decisive, he led her towards the door.


	6. Chapter 6

'This is where the story ends,' he said, as the holodeck doors opened, and they entered a rocky cave.

'Where are we?' asked Kathryn, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

'Battir 4', he replied. 'Our Maquis base camp in the demilitarized zone. Two years ago, it fell to the Cardassians, along with many good comrades. I found this programme in B'Elanna's files.'

Kathryn shivered as she began to make out the shapes of bodies strewn on the ground; the dank air still smelled of phaser discharge. Chakotay was looking straight forward, with little expression on his face.

'Chakotay… why…?' she began.

'Because I need you to understand,' he said, simply.

They walked on, silently, passing the remains of a burnt-out shuttlecraft. She looked for identifying markings: it looked like a model the Federation had retired some years ago. Maquis, she nodded to herself, shuddering at the structural damage. There was no way that the crew could have survived that landing.

Suddenly, sounds of phaser fire ricocheted through the tunnel. 'Get down!' shouted Chakotay, pulling her behind the shuttlecraft. Two Cardassian ground troopers came around the corner; hidden behind the rusting metalwork Kathryn and Chakotay watched as the troops surveyed the area then headed onwards. As they headed out of sight, a stone fell behind her. One of the Cardassians looked back; in an instant, Chakotay had drawn a phaser and fired, knocking him down. As the second Cardassian moved his hand towards his communicator, Chakotay fired once again, but it was too late: they could hear heavy footsteps moving towards the cave, drawn by the phaser fire.

As if in slow motion, Kathryn watched as a Chakotay whom she barely recognized leapt forward, ducking behind a rock, then firing on another Cardassian entering the cave. As the Cardassian's knees buckled, Chakotay whipped round, barely meeting the eyes of the next Cardassian, whose phaser was already pointed at his face.

Rapidly, her thoughts caught up with her. 'Computer! Pause programme!' she shouted. 'Delete characters!' The Cardassians shimmered and disappeared. Chakotay remained rooted to the ground, crouched by the rock. She ran over to him: he was holding his head in his hands, breathing heavily and perspiring. She raised her hand to her communicator. 'Doctor!...'

He turned and took her hand. 'Belay that. I'm alright. I just…'

He raised his arm and she helped him to his feet, leading him to the mouth of the cave. A vast valley lay before them, the remains of further shuttlecraft strewn on the ground. Noticing a flat ledge on a nearby outcrop, she motioned to him to sit. Chakotay leaned forward, his hands on his knees, looking at the floor as he drew deep, shaky breaths, which gradually became steadier. She sat down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

'You're right. We need to talk,' she said. 'This was not just another holodeck programme, was it, Chakotay? You were in another place…'

Beginning in short sentences, the words to tell his story finally rose to the surface. A career officer, living his Starfleet dreams. He had been teaching in the Academy when the notice for the evacuation of his home colony had arrived. He had spoken to his parents, pleaded with them to pack up and leave, had explained the Federation relocation project, had promised to visit during his next shore leave. His father had looked at him sadly. This was the only home they knew, and he would defend his home. His people had long memories, and generations of oppression on Earth were still an open wound. The community leaders had spoken: they were not planning to move again.

Later that week, walking home from work, Chakotay had found himself drawn towards a street protest against the Federation-Cardassian treaty; initially curious, he had slowly felt the slogans resonate through his body; had returned to the protest the next week, and the next, shouting the slogans and planning to visit the colony during the next recess. But he had been too late: four weeks later, his world had fallen apart. He had heard the gasps and muttered words before he fought his way to the view screen in the Academy mess hall; the second he saw the twisted debris it was clear: the Cardassians were wiping the colony out. His home colony. Later that day, his fears were confirmed: his father was among the dead.

When the first waves of grief had subsided, anger had burned within him like a torch, first at his father for ignoring the dangers, then at himself for abandoning the colony, then at the Federation, for encouraging the colonists to settle on the outer fringes of Federation space, then selling them off to the Cardassians as if they were just another supply post, then at Starfleet: they had the most advanced scanners in the quadrant and several heavily armed starships patrolled the demilitarized zone. How had they allowed this to happen?

He had known what he had to do: the tattoo artist in the barrio had seemed surprised to see a Starfleet officer enter his store but as the pain coursed through his nerves his anger turned into determination. Placing his folded uniform and comm badge on the desk of Admiral Namimby, he registered the admiral's look of surprise then contempt, turned towards the door and walked straight out of Starfleet Headquarters. Packing a single bag, he bought a ticket to Deep Space 9 and jumped aboard the first Maquis transport he could find. After a brief training period, he was assigned to a command post, feeling at home among a crew with whom his pain resonated. Piloting the Val Jean into daily battles along the borders of the Badlands, he felt alive again as phaser fire rocked the ship and adrenalin coursed through his veins. The ship was powerful but nimble enough to avoid the Cardassian targeting beams, and they stuck to a monthly schedule, dropping off supplies and exchanging information with the outposts, then returning to base for command meetings.

Here, Chakotay had found his suspicions confirmed. The Maquis had detected subspace communications from Starfleet Headquarters. While they knew that most Federation citizens supported them, somebody—some people—high up in Starfleet were passing information to the Cardassians. The violent confrontations increased. On a particularly bad day, he had lost three crew members during a routine food drop; had called three sets of parents in turn, accompanied three more young people to their final rest.

And then… the Bajoran girl. She had grown up in hiding with her parents on a nearby colony; now under Cardassian attack they sent out a mayday signal picked up by the Maquis. He had found the colony and led the remaining colonists to the Val Jean, Cardassian ground troops only minutes behind them. As they rounded the ridge to the landing site, he looked back, only to see a young girl struggling in the arms of two Cardassians. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading: but behind her forty more Cardassians were coming over the ridge, searching for the landing site; a phaser shot would reveal their location immediately, endangering the men, women and children behind him. He watched as the Cardassian raised a phaser to her head, his silent scream reverberating through the valley as the Cardassian kicked her limp body, splayed on the ground.

'Your dream?' Kathryn asked, quietly.

He had almost forgotten that she was sitting beside him. He nodded. 'Not just a dream: waking and sleeping thoughts.'

'Why did you never tell me about this?' She sounded exhausted. How long had they been sitting on the ledge? An hour? Two? It seemed like an eternity.

'Because when my crew came aboard this ship, it was your belief in Starfleet that held Voyager together, that kept us moving towards the Alpha Quadrant. We couldn't jeopardize that. And… because I was ashamed that I would let you down. How could I be First Officer of Voyager if I could barely face my own memories? I'm sorry, Kathryn.'

A cold feeling swept through her body. She realized that it had never even occurred to her to ask Chakotay about his Maquis experiences. He had fitted in to Voyager so easily that she barely remembered that he had not been at her side when they left Deep Space 9, that he had commanded the ship she had been sent to intercept, that she had regarded him as just another inconvenience to Starfleet, a renegade to be beamed aboard and deposited at the nearest starbase. During the past years, she had casually chatted with him so often about plans for returning to the Alpha Quadrant, without stopping to think what it cost him to put the Starfleet uniform back on every day, how it felt to look in the mirror and see the Federation's failure in the Borderlands etched across his face.

She moved closer towards him, and leant her head on his shoulder.

'Kathryn, we both signed up to Starfleet because of our principles,' he said. 'I wish I could believe that those principles still stand. I'm proud to serve on Voyager, but I won't return to the Alpha Quadrant as a Starfleet officer.'

'I never thought I would love somebody who left Starfleet,' she whispered.

'Love is complicated, Kathryn,' he said, running his fingers over her knee.

She leaned towards him, clasping her hands around his neck and bringing her lips towards his. Closing her eyes, she nuzzled his top lip, then feeling him reciprocate, she pressed hard into the kiss, burying her fingers deep into his thick hair, surprised by the intensity of the passion that she felt. He followed her moves, locking his hands under her shoulders and allowing her to explore him with her tongue, then asserted himself, penetrating deeper into her mouth and pulling her body closer. Gasping for air, they looked at one another. 'I think we had better return to my quarters,' he murmured. 'Yes', she responded, allowing him to help her to her feet.

She had been right, she reflected as they walked towards the exit. Things were changing on Voyager.


	7. Chapter 7

He set the replicated coffee down on the table, and glanced back at the sleeping figure behind him, her arm reaching over the empty space in the bed. Had it really been a year already?

It had been a challenging year for both of them: while intimacy had come easily, warming their daily routine with gentle delights of touch and familiarity, life on a starship was not kind to relationships. Both Chakotay and Janeway had slowly learned to make space for the other, treading carefully in their command roles as they carved out a new life as a couple. They had moved into his quarters: she had always loved the calm geometric patterns on his furniture, but he suspected that subconsciously the move had also helped her to cross the threshold of the new course that her life had taken.

Their first months together had brought more than their fair share of challenges. Amid a string of turbulent alien encounters, Voyager had fallen into chaotic space and he had fallen into his worst nightmare, his mind suddenly full of voices nobody else could hear and sights they couldn't see. He had called out to the spirits in a vision quest, but the voice of his grandfather had merged with an unfamiliar voice whose words he struggled to understand; his boxing practice suddenly transformed into a fight for Voyager's future.

When Voyager had left chaotic space he had returned to work and to boxing with new vigour, jubilant that his worst fears were behind him. But inside he had known that there would be a price to pay for letting the alien into his thoughts. A few days later, the spirits had returned, this time uninvited, calling out to him and filling his eyes with a kaleidoscope of images that would never stay still; with a sickening lurch he had understood that the genetic activation that the alien had made would be permanent.

Unable to hold his thoughts together any longer, he had tried the neural blockers that had quieted his dreams in the past years but they had little effect. Kathryn had found him pacing around their quarters, looking for his Maquis colleagues; she had led him to Sickbay where he had spent three days drifting between the Val Jean, Voyager, Starfleet Academy and the forest, desperately seeking something firm to hold on to. On the worst day, he had lashed out at her, convinced that she was working for the Cardassians. Later he had caught sight of her tear-streaked face as he pleaded with the Doctor to quiet the voices; unable to bear the pain he had caused her and the certain knowledge that she had left him, he had returned to the forest, seeking refuge deeper and deeper within the spirit world.

But when the clouds had finally parted she had still been there beside him, and she had stayed during the following weeks, finding time to sit quietly beside him in between bridge duties, rubbing his clenched hand when he had bent over double with the headaches that wracked his cortex while the Doctor worked to reformulate his medication, then quietly leading him back to his work duties with a gentleness in her strength that he had not recognized in her before, and which stayed between them in their private moments, causing him to love her even more deeply than before.

Too soon afterwards, it had been Kathryn's dreams that had shattered. She had long suspected that she would not be able to bear children, but when confirmation finally came from the Doctor she had crumpled, retreating into herself as the last part of the perfect family photograph that she had once imagined had faded away. The Doctor had blamed accumulated exposure to radiation and energy fields; Kathryn had blamed herself.

Lost for words to console her, Chakotay had decided to act without consulting her and invited Seven of Nine to join them for dinner in their quarters. Both had long been fond of the former Borg, but they had shared a feeling of contentment as they became her unspoken family; slowly, their weekly dinners had expanded as other young crewmembers joined them, until Neelix had joked that by now the Captain and First Officer were aunt and uncle to half the ship.

Smiling to himself, he turned back towards the small rock lying on the table. All the preparations for tonight were ready. He was amazed that she hadn't suspected anything: all those weeks that they had eaten Neelix's food so that he could save replicator rations, she had seemingly believed him that he had a taste for Talaxian soup. Now there was just one last person to consult. He paused. The doctor had assured him that a vision quest would do him no harm, but at Chakotay's insistence had given him a cortical monitor to wear. This time he would be taking no chances with the spirits. Switching the monitor on and placing it on his neck, he knelt by the table and unwrapped his bundle. 'Father,' he whispered, 'I am far from our sacred places…'


	8. Chapter 8

'Computer, save programme Torres Epsilon 3.' B'Elanna sat on the edge of the bed in the forest cabin and looked around her, running through the checklist one last time in her mind. The gleaming espresso machine on the side table—Tom had insisted on building it himself—next to a small pile of Earth books chosen by the Doctor; a polaric lantern that wove geometric patterns of light over the wooden floorboards; a rippling brook next to the path that led from the open door; firewood in a sandy hollow under the stars; a package of marshmallows. When Harry had described the recipe, Neelix had recoiled at the idea of mixing gelatine and sugar, but Harry had assured him that no starlit fire would be complete without them.

She turned to her right. Beside the open window, a beaded hanging divided into four sectors was fixed to the wall, a gift from the crew: when Ensign Wildman had proposed the idea B'Elanna had initially been skeptical, but eventually she too had joined the small groups of crewmen who gathered during off-duty hours to thread beads, finding herself adding her own stories to theirs, adding beads to the clusters of colours in the artwork that charted Voyager's ongoing journey back towards the Alpha Quadrant. Naomi Wildman had snuggled at her feet, passing beads to her: since their conversation a year ago in the turbolift, Naomi had held her head high every time she passed B'Elanna. She suspected that Naomi would soon be asking for Klingon martial arts lessons.

Meanwhile, B'Elanna had been surprised to find out that Wildman had served alongside her Maquis friend Li-Paz in her first posting: recalling his deep voice and devoted following of the Bajoran hoverball league reminded her that his memory was more than just a lifeless body on Battir 4. She threaded teal and yellow beads into the pattern in the part of the wall hanging that represented the Badlands: they were the colours of the Rakantha Stars scarf that she remembered Li-Paz wrapping around his face as they prepared to jump down from the Val Jean with a case of supplies. 'These are for you,' she whispered.

B'Elanna gave a final glance around, nodding with pride at her finished work. She straightened the books on the shelf. All was ready. She rose and left the cabin, closing the door behind her. Perhaps she and Tom would return here at some future date, but for now, her task was done. 'Computer: end programme'. Walking to the interface, she picked up the memory chip and left the holodeck.

* * *

Reaching for the PADD on the table in her ready room, Kathryn Janeway caught sight of her hand and smiled. The last thing she'd imagined returning with from the Delta Quadrant was an engagement ring on her finger. As before every mission, the day before she had left for Voyager she had taken off the ring that Mark had given her, leaving it on her bedside table. It was an old Starfleet tradition, dating from the days of the Mars missions, when ships had been lost for months at a time and sometimes forever; this time, expecting to be away for no more than a week she'd barely even registered the action as she put on her command uniform, excited to step onto Voyager's bridge. Now a new ring replaced it: from the Maquis leader she'd been sent to capture, no less. A tiny diamond sparkled in the gold band. Yes, it was an infraction of Starfleet uniform regulations, but as far as she remembered, it had been over five years since anybody had conducted a uniform inspection on Voyager, and she had no intention of ordering one any time soon.

She had suspected nothing two weeks ago when Tuvok had called her comm badge, requesting her presence immediately in the hydroponics bay. She had still suspected nothing when she found the planters there unusually full of flowers, not vegetables. Confused as to the purpose of the call, she had looked around for a duty ensign, then Chakotay had stepped round the corner, a single fresh rose in his hand. 'Chakotay! Tuvok just sent…' she started, falling silent as he pressed the rose into her hands and dropped to one knee. He had slipped the ring onto her finger, then after a brief embrace pulled her back to the bridge where they had received a standing ovation from their colleagues. She had felt her cheeks redden—she had always tried to avoid displays of affection on the bridge—but at the same time, pride and happiness had surged through her chest.

She took a deep breath. So many things had changed during the past year. During their first weeks together, their bodies freshly intertwined, she and Chakotay had talked into the night about Starfleet, the borderlands, the Maquis… it had seemed hardly conceivable that two close friends could have so much to learn about one another.

Then pain had come quickly on the heels of closeness. She had become so used to Chakotay's strong, quiet presence, always standing right behind her, supporting her, that she had felt almost dizzy as she watched him battle the demons of his mind. He was an intensely private person; she could see that baring his troubled soul in front of the crew had hurt Chakotay almost as much as the physical pain as he fought to control his mind. Gradually the old Chakotay had returned and his fear had subsided, though he still woke too frequently in the night. At those moments, she drew him into a tight embrace, as if clinging to him would protect their fragile humanity. But he had taught her to listen, to breathe slowly and deeply along with him, and as the months passed she felt some of the inner stillness he fought to maintain rubbing off on her.

Stretching, Janeway read the PADD one last time. Yes, all of the command instructions were there: now for the first time in five years, she could begin to relax. The previous day, Tuvok had surprised her on the bridge with the new duty roster, removing both her and Chakotay from duty for a week. Raising an eyebrow, she joked that in other circumstances she might have courtmartialled the entire bridge crew for conspiracy. But in this case, B'Elanna formally presented her and Chakotay with a holodeck chip, and even Janeway was lost for words when she heard that every crewman had contributed an hour of holodeck time and a day's replicator rations in order to send them on holiday.

In a few minutes, Tuvok would arrive and she would conduct a short briefing before temporarily handing over command of Voyager to him. Tonight, his first duty would be the Captain's traditional privilege: marrying two members of his crew. A red dress was waiting in her quarters: she had researched the customs of Chakotay's tribe. She had always imagined standing in front of her future husband in uniform, but they had agreed: this was not a marriage of captain and first officer, or Starfleet and Maquis: tonight they would be Kathryn and Chakotay, standing in front of another in front of the remarkable group of people who had become their family over the past five years. An unconventional family, perhaps, and not the one she had long imagined-but one that had nonetheless held together against the odds.

The door opened, and she held her breath as Tuvok entered in formal Vulcan robes. Her old friend seemed somehow taller as he took the command oath then led her to her quarters. The next day, as she tried to recall that evening, a whirl of images sped through her mind: the radiant colours of the crew's attire, representing tens of planets and dozens of cultures; the Doctor and Harry Kim performing a Schubert serenade as she walked to meet Chakotay under the starry wedding canopy; Tuvok standing in front of them, offering the cup of wine to Kathryn then Chakotay, then making the Vulcan salute; Neelix's three-layer wedding cake; hours of music and dancing; Naomi Wildman riding on B'Elanna's shoulders; Seven of Nine reticently taking Gerron's hand... And above all, Chakotay's dark eyes, the eyes of a good man who loved her, looking into hers as they recited the old words:

When I reach for the stars

You will be beside me

When I walk on the dust

We will walk together

When you soar

I will rise with you

And when you stumble

I will ease your fall

Among the great diversity of our universe

We set ourselves apart:

I am yours, and the future is ours

* * *

Author's note:

In writing this story, I set myself the challenge to write a single day aboard Voyager (plus epilogue), during which I would probe some of the psychological dimensions of the Voyager crew's experiences, filling in gaps that remain within the original story while staying as far as possible within, or close to, the original story canon, up to the point at which this story begins. I am grateful to the authors and actors who created the characters I use here; this writing is a tribute to their work and no ownership is implied. I am also grateful to chakoteya dot net and to Memory Alpha for collecting and making available information that makes writing these complex worlds easier.

This story is fictional but Chakotay's grandfather quotes a real sage: Rabbi Tarfon (1st century CE). Both this quotation and the opening words by Hillel can be found in Mishna Avot chapter 2; the translation and adaption of the original is my own. And the real-life Battir is a Palestinian village on the 1967 Israeli border.

Finally, while Voyager's world is fictional, many of the challenges faced by the ex-combatants I portray here are not, and some of the scenes here draw upon real life in a conflict zone. This story is dedicated to those who, like Chakotay and B'Elanna, continue to struggle with memories and their own spirit worlds long after the phaser fire has ended. For their descendants and all of ours, I hope that Earth's future will be more peaceful than the one portrayed here.

Many thanks to everyone who left a review. I'm overwhelmed by the number of people who have been reading this story. Thanks for being an appreciative audience!

-A


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